


Getting an Eyeful

by Dreamin



Series: In Other Words [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, half-naked Seb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 03:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Molly gets to see more of her house guest than she ever thought she would.





	Getting an Eyeful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



> Inspired by a prompt from afteriwake. (It's at the bottom to avoid spoiling the ending.)

Part of her was yelling at her that it was a very, very bad idea, but Molly knew it was the best option. Yes, she barely knew Sebastian Moran, and what she did know of him wasn’t exactly stellar, but he was willing to risk everything to help Sherlock take down Moriarty’s web, so letting him stay in her guestroom for a little while was the least she could do, really.

The morning after Sherlock’s fall, after Molly had housed the supposedly dead detective for a night then saw him off with a hug, she gave the disgraced army sniper a tour of her house. After showing Sebastian everything else, she showed him the guestroom.

“I just changed the sheets and there’s a stack of fresh towels and flannels in the guest bathroom,” she said, trying hard to ignore the dismissive look he gave the room before he put his bags on the bed. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, I can get whatever you want at the store the next time I go.”

“I live mostly on coffee, beer, and steak,” he muttered as he took jeans and t-shirts out of his duffle bag and put them in the dresser. “Black unsweetened, Guinness, and porterhouse, if you want specifics.”

When he was done putting away the rest of his clothes, he opened his garment bag and pulled out the last thing Molly expected him to own – a tuxedo. One glance at his broad shoulders and narrow waist had her wondering how he’d look in it. _Probably pretty hot, better than James Bond._

He looked at her and chuckled. “I can’t always pick someone off from a distance, sometimes I need to get close to them, and the only way to do that at a fancy party is in a tux.”

Her mind immediately went to a postmortem she’d done the year before on a cabinet minister who’d been poisoned at his brother-in-law’s birthday party. “Oh, um, right.”

“Sorry,” he said, and she believed he meant it. “Killing for profit’s behind me. Now I’ll be doing it for ‘Queen and country’ as soon as Mycroft clears me for official duty.” Working for Mycroft was part of the deal he’d struck in order to get immunity.

“Right, of course,” she said, unable to hide her relief.

“Then I’ll be out of your hair and have a decent place of my own.” He took another look around the room. “Though probably not as nice as this one.”

She couldn’t help a small smile. “Thanks. Um, why don’t you get settled and I’ll get dinner started.”

“Sure thing.”

Molly was almost out the door when his voice stopped her.

“And thank you for this. I needed somewhere to crash that Jim’s goons wouldn’t think of.”

She turned to look at him and her stomach flipped over at the genuine smile he was giving her. “Um, it’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not nothing,” he said firmly. “You have no reason to trust me.”

“Sherlock vouched for you.”

Sebastian smirked. “He’s not infallible.”

Molly smiled a bit. “Close enough.” She headed downstairs, unable to get his smile out of her head.

* * *

Within a week, it was like Sebastian had always lived there. Despite what he’d said about his food preferences being very simple, he was actually a good cook. For the first time in years, Molly now had a home-made breakfast every morning instead of her usual fast food breakfast sandwich bought during her commute. What had her gobsmacked, though, was that he did all the cleaning – dishes, laundry, the whole nine yards.

“You don’t have to do all this,” she said the first time she found him in the laundry room, folding one of her sheets.

“Got to pull my weight somehow,” he said as he put the folded sheet in the laundry basket then started on another. “Mycroft’s still not ready for me.”

“What’s the hold up?” she asked, concerned. _If Mycroft goes back on his deal, Sebastian could be going to prison._

“Paperwork, he says.  He’s lying through his teeth but I have no idea what he’s really up to. It’s bugging me.” He smiled a bit. “So, while I’ve got all this down time, I have to do something active or I’ll go stir-crazy.”

“Don’t you have a hobby?”

“Not really. Normally, I don’t have much free time.”

“Well, there must be something else you want to do.” She smiled a bit. “It’s a small house, you’ll run out of things to clean soon.”

He chuckled. “Suppose I could start watching football again.”

“There you go. Obsessing over your favorite team will take up loads of time, if my colleagues are anything to go by.”

“You’re not a fan?”

Molly shrugged. “I’ll watch the World Cup and football at the Olympics but that’s about it.”

“Right.” He grinned. “Maybe I can get you addicted too.”

She grinned back. “I doubt it but you’re welcome to try.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Let’s try on Saturday. You’re off then, right?”

“I work Saturday morning, I should be home in time.”

“Good.”

* * *

Saturday morning, she was working on paperwork in her office, her mind frequently straying to her house guest. _Why can’t I just ask him out?_

_He’s a dangerous criminal_ , a voice sounding exactly like her estranged mother said. _He shouldn’t even be in your house._

_Sebastian’s a good man, deep down. Yes, he did bad things but he’s changed. I trust him._

Her ringing mobile interrupted her thoughts. One glance told her things were going to change.

“Hello, Mycroft.” She kept her voice cheerful, if only to annoy him,

“Dr. Hooper,” he said in lieu of a greeting. His tone was all-business. “I tried to reach Moran but he seems to be incommunicado.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “He’s probably taking a shower.”

“Well, tell him when you see him that he reports to me first thing Monday morning. His clearance finally came through.”

She couldn’t help grinning wide. “I will. Thank you, Mycroft.”

“Speak nothing of it.” Then he hung up.

One of her colleagues came in early, giving her a chance to leave an hour before her shift ended. She thought about texting Sebastian but decided it wasn’t necessary.

She walked through the front door and was about to announce that she was home when she heard voices coming from the telly. Setting down her bag and purse, she followed the sound to the sitting room and stopped dead.

There was Sebastian walking into the sitting room from the other entrance, holding a plate of scrambled eggs. The tight blue t-shirt he wore brought out his eyes and showed off his muscles, but that’s not what had Molly’s cheeks flaming and her jaw dropping.

It was the fact that he was wearing the t-shirt … and nothing else. No trousers, not even pants. The shirt only went to his waist, leaving his cock and balls completely uncovered.

_And what a cock it is,_ Molly’s dazed mind thought. _A very nice size, and he isn’t even hard yet. I bet he’s huge._ She finally noticed that he had stopped moving and she brought her eyes up to meet his.

Sebastian grinned at her. “I’m guessing you like what you see.”

“Seb!” she gasped, even though he was right. “Could you, um, put some trousers on? Underwear? Anything at all?”

“Mmm, I’d rather have you be bottomless too,” he murmured, still grinning, as he set the plate and fork on the coffee table then approached her slowly. “Topless wouldn’t hurt either.”

God help her, he was getting hard.

_Think, Molly!_ her mother’s voice commanded her. _Demand he put something on! Lock yourself in your room!_

Mentally telling her mother to stuff it, she grabbed Seb’s shirt with one hand, his magnificent cock with the other, and pulled him in for a kiss. Football was quite forgotten in favor of another physical activity.

**Author's Note:**

> donaldkacsázás (hungarian) - (v.) lit. "donald ducking"; wandering around the house while wearing only a shirt and no trousers or underpants


End file.
